


The Inevitable Fall

by Innwich



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Crimes & Criminals, Friends to Lovers, Gangs, Gangsters, Injury, Lawyer Sam, M/M, Massage, Police Officer Dean, Rich Castiel, Secret Identity, Suicide, Superhero Castiel, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 04:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2374160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innwich/pseuds/Innwich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was a vigilante, Dean was an honest cop, and Sam was headed to be the new district attorney. In any other city, they would’ve been the perfect crime-fighting team. In Stull City, where bad things happened to decent people, it was only a matter of time before good men fell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Inevitable Fall

** 15 **

Castiel spotted Balthazar walking amidst the crowd in the ballroom, serving champagne on a silver tray and flirting with the police commissioner’s daughters. He’d have to congratulate Balthazar on the choice of orchestra later. Perhaps Balthazar could hire them for the charity dinner next week.

At the far end of the ballroom, by the tall windows, Dean was sulking and staring out into the night, looking out of place with his rolled up sleeves and loosened tie.

“A penny for your thought,” Castiel said, leaning on the wall next to Dean.

“Dude, you need a better line.” 

“I’ve never had much complaint about that before.”

“That’s because you’re friggin’ loaded,” Dean said. “You’ve got a pretty awesome party going on, Cas. I think I recognize everyone here from the newspapers.”

“You made the papers too,” Castiel pointed out. “They’re calling you the ‘Hero Cop’.”

Dean groaned. “Not you too.”

“You are very photogenic.”

“Don’t even joke,” Dean said.

“They set up a fan site for you.”

“I swear I’ll storm that newspaper one of these days.”

“I love the story about the kidnapping ring. It’s very thrilling,” Castiel said. “My receptionists wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“My boss wasn’t happy about it. He was paid to look the other way.” Dean sighed. “This friggin’ city, man. But at least Sam is going to places.”

“We need more people like you, Dean,” Castiel said.

“But a lot of powerful people don’t want people like me,” Dean said. “So, where are the chicks you came in with?”

“Do you want to get their autographs?”

“Shouldn’t you go back to entertaining your lady friends?” Dean said. “They’re bound to miss you.”

“They’ve gone,” Castiel said. “Now I can entertain you instead.”

Dean jerked back like he was burnt. The tips of his ears were red. “I need a stiff drink. I’m not drunk enough for this.” Dean headed for where a haggard bartender was working, and disappeared into the small crowd of socialites chatting around the bar.

Castiel let his smile drop. He hated it sometimes. This façade did nothing but attract shallow gold-diggers and push away good men, but it was necessary to deflect suspicions. Perhaps it was working too well.

“Don’t tease him too much,” came a voice from behind Castiel.

“Sam,” Castiel said. “How are you finding the fundraiser?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, fidgeting with his tie. It was endearing to see that the cool collected prosecutor in the courts could be reduced to a blushing schoolboy. “It’s a little weird knowing this party is dedicated to me. I’m still getting used to this politics thing.”

“You’ll be fine,” Castiel said. “You’re headed to become the youngest DA in the history of this city,”

“Don’t jinx it, Cas,” Sam said good-humoredly.

“There’s no need to be modest, Sammy,” Dean said, returning with a glass of whiskey. He reached up to rub Sam on the head. “You’re gonna win this election. I know it.”

Sam protested as his hair was ruffled, “Dean!”

Castiel raised his glass. “To Sam Winchester and a brighter future in Stull City.”

“Hell yeah, I’ll drink to that.” Dean was quick to raise his glass. “To Sam and Stull City.”

Sam grinned, his dimples showing, as he clicked his glass against theirs.

Castiel felt happier than he had any right to be right.

\- - -

** 14 **

Keeper tightened the zip ties around the hands and feet of the two goons he had knocked out, and tied the men to a lamppost. A police officer or an early runner would find them in the morning. Until then, they could enjoy the bitter cold wind out here on the streets.

“I could’ve taken them,” Dean said, his voice slightly muffled by the Kleenex stuffed into his nostrils. The Kleenex was soaked with blood. “Didn’t need your help, Keeper.”

“You’ve heard of me,” Keeper said.

Dean didn’t bat an eye. “I heard you’ve been roughing up some of my bosses. Gordon was crying about it at a meeting yesterday. Swore he’d have your head on a silver platter.”

“And yet you’re not afraid of me. Why?” Keeper said, advancing on Dean. He knew he cut an intimidating figure in the night, with his dark hooded cape, domino mask, and body armor. He flexed his hands; the blood on his knuckles glimmered.

“I don’t scare easy. Besides, you only go after dirty cops.” Dean stood tall under his glare. “Not honest cops.”

“Are you an honest cop, Dean?” Keeper said.

“Gordon tried to shoot me in the back last year. I’m as honest as you’re gonna get in this place.” Dean squared his shoulders. “Why?”

“If I say I want to offer you my help-”

“I’ll take it. Most of the people in the city hall and police force are in someone’s pockets,” Dean said. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re raining hell on those sonuvbitches. That’s good enough for me.”

Keeper nodded.

\- - -

** 13 **

The Impala grunted like a tired beast as it finished the trek uphill and drove through the gates of the mansion.

Castiel frowned, watching the car’s progression from the window of his study. He didn’t usually make mistakes, but he wondered if he just made a mistake with Dean. Perhaps Dean wasn’t as amenable to working with Keeper as he’d thought, and perhaps Dean was smarter than he’d expected. “Balthazar.”

“Be careful.” Balthazar handed Castiel a glass of soda with a slice of lime on the edge of the glass, before going to open the front door.

Castiel ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it, and lay on a couch in the study. He was still in his pajamas when he was awoken from his sleep, and there were dark circles under his eyes; it didn’t take much effort to look like a wreck.

The door of the study opened.

“Good morning,” Castiel said.

“Isn’t it too early for you to be drinking?” Dean said, raising an eyebrow.

Casetiel made a production out of draining the soda from his glass. “It’s never too early to be drinking.”

“Maybe not for you.”

“Have you just come here to insult me, Dean?” Castiel said lightly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Cas,” Dean said. He leaned against an antique bookcase against the far wall, the one that was passed down to Castiel from his great-grandfather. “Don’t know if you heard, but Sam won.”

“By a landslide,” Castiel said. He tipped his empty glass. “Why else would I be celebrating?”

Dean laughed. The corners of his eyes crinkled. He looked less like the weathered police officer that he was, and more like a proud big brother. “Yeah, well, I have to come to thank you for everything you’ve done for Sam’s campaign. He won because of you.”

Castiel shook his head. “He won because people agreed with his vision of a better Stull City, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. His smile was bright and easy. “Something is finally changing in this city.”

\- - -

** 12 **

Heavy smog hung low in the night sky. Despite its brightly-lit skyline, Stull City always seemed darker than other cities of its size.

“Is he even coming, Dean?” Sam said, staring into the sky. He was wearing an overcoat over his suit; he was probably still working before he came to the Stull City Police Headquarters.

“He’s gonna be here. Stop being such a bitch,” Dean said.

“Jerk.”

Decided that he’d heard enough, Keeper said from the shadows of the rooftop, “Why do you call me here?”

Dean started, but not as badly as Sam did, who looked ready to jump out of his skin. Dean said with a smug grin, “Told you he’d come.”

“DA Winchester,” Keeper said. “Congratulations on your appointment.”

“Thanks,” Sam said eagerly, holding out a hand. Keeper shook his hand once, twice, before letting go.

“I’ve heard your platform. I like it,” Keeper said. “Especially the part about taking the gangs off the streets.”

“Yeah? That’s good, because I think you can help us out on that, Keeper,” Sam said.

“What do you want me to do?” Keeper said.

“You can get information for us. Stuff that we can’t get a search warrant for,” Sam said. “Stuff that only Alastair and Lilith have access to.”

“Hold on,” Dean said. “You’re not making him break into Alastair and Lilith’s houses. Are you crazy?”

“He can get information we can’t, Dean!” Sam said hotly. “Why else would you need to work with a vigilante?”

“Because the rest of the police department is corrupt as hell, and no one wants to take down bad guys anymore!”

“A lot of judges are in the pockets of Alastair and Lilith too, Dean, and they’ll never agree to sign our search warrants. I can use a little help too.”

“I’ll do whatever needs to be done for you,” Keeper said. “But you must promise to put them away for good.”

“It’s a deal.” Sam beamed.

\- - -

** 11 **

The mansion was quiet and still, after Castiel finished arming the security systems.

Castiel walked into the ballroom, where the party had ended an hour ago. It had been a long night, and he had yet to go on his nightly patrol in the city, when most people were sleeping in their beds. He felt his resolve to keep up with his routine was wavering, and, as he always did when that happened, he stood before the portraits of his parents, remembering again why he became Keeper in the first place. As Castiel switched on a light, he heard someone walking down the hallway outside the room.

Balthazar had already retired for the night.

He waited by the open door, and grabbed the intruder. He threw an arm around the man’s neck and tightened the hold, cutting off his blood flow. A familiar voice croaked, “I can explain.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, releasing him. “I thought you’ve left.”

“That was a hell of a chokehold.” Dean coughed.

“I took self-defense classes,” Castiel said shortly. “What are you doing here?”

“Sammy ditched me,” Dean said. “I got lost in your huge house after using the toilet.”

“That happens,” Castiel allowed. “You should go though.”

He gestured at the ballroom, the rows of bottles placed neatly behind the bar. “I can really use a drink.”

“Aren’t you driving home?”

“I’ll take a soda, anything to take the edge off. It’s gonna be a long drive back to my place.”

“Help yourself,” Castiel said. Dean followed him into the ballroom.

Castiel returned to looking up at the portraits of his parents, as Dean went behind the bar and poured a drink for himself. It was a clear night with a full moon. The moonlight hit the faces of the paintings squarely.

“Do you miss them?” Dean said.

Castiel shot him a glance. “Of course I do.”

“Sorry,” Dean said. “It’s just that you put these paintings front and center in the room. Kinda make me wonder.”

“My parents were shot in an alley behind an old cinema,” Castiel said. “By a mugger that had gone without food for too long.”

“Shit.”

Castiel shrugged. It was a story he knew by heart and had recounted far more times than he wanted. “We were at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I was too young to remember them, but my dad used to tell me about the stuff they’d done for the city,” Dean said. He nodded at the portraits. “I’m sorry.”

“Many people are,” Castiel said. He looked up at the faces of Charles and Rebecca Shurley, smiling softly at the near empty ballroom. He knew, without having to look, the words that were written on the golden plaque below the portraits, but he also knew the words that _should_ have been written on it.

_(“Avenge us, Cas.”)_

A warm hand clasped his shoulder, shaking him out of the memory. Dean said, “Hey, we orphans have to stick together, right?”

Because Castiel was a lonely man on a lonely mission, because it was easy being the billionaire drunkard that Dean liked, because they’d been doing this dance since the day they met, Castiel said slowly, testing the waters, “In more ways than one.”

Dean blushed and drew his hand back quickly. A red flush bloomed on the back of his neck. “Not exactly what I meant. But, uh, if you’re saying-”

But Castiel had to go on patrol soon, and Dean had work tomorrow, so Castiel said, “Maybe another day, Dean.”

Dean’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. “I can do another day.”

Castiel had another night of stalking the streets and hunting down criminals ahead of him, but there was finally something he could look forward to. “Another day.”

\- - -

** 10 **

Keeper scaled the side of the police headquarters on a climbing rope, looking through the windows, until he spotted Dean’s office.

The window was unlocked. He pushed it upwards, and slipped into the dark office. He shone his flashlight around the office, seeing a photo of Sam, dirty coffee mugs and piles of paperwork on the desk, before switching it off. It didn’t feel natural, standing in the middle of a room like this.

He could hear police officers walking and talking outside the door. He caught snatches of conversations about their families and what they were going to do for the weekends. He was almost surprised by the normalcy of it all.

Keeper waited.

A few minutes later, the door handle turned. Dean walked in with a pile of files cradled in his arms. He turned on the lights and started. “Shit. You scare me.”

“You told me to meet you here,” Keeper pointed out.

“Yeah,” Dean said, locking the door behind him. “I can’t keep meeting you on the rooftop; people know I don’t smoke.”

Keeper nodded. “Do you have the file?”

“It’s around here somewhere.” Dean put down the files he was carrying on the desk, and rummaged in the file cabinets behind his desk. “Yup.” He pulled out a thick manila file. “Here you go. This is everything we have on Alastair and Lilith.”

Keeper flipped through the documents in the file. There were police reports, autopsy reports, witness statements, and dozens of photos of blood and bodies and severed limbs. “Why can’t Sam prosecute them?”

Dean rubbed his head in frustration. “No one wants to talk. They are all too scared. And someone in the department destroyed the key evidences.”

“What does Sam need?”

“I don’t like this, K. Alastair and Lilith are dangerous people.”

“What does he need?” Keeper repeated.

Dean sighed. “Any information about their deals: Shipping records, accounting books, anything. It won’t be admissible in court, but if we know more about their people and trades, we just may catch them red-handed and find someone who wants to testify.”

“Will Sam be willing to prosecute if I find you this information?” Keeper said.

“You know he will.”

“Then leave this to me,” Keeper said.

\- - -

** 9 **

Castiel was sticky with sweat and cum and lube, but he couldn’t be bothered to get up from his bed.

It was dark in the bedroom, thanks to the heavy curtains that completely blocked out any light from the windows. It was the kind of dark where Castiel couldn’t make out the outlines of his hands even if he held them up inches from his eyes. It was the kind of dark that Castiel needed if he wanted to get any rest during daytime.

“Never thought I would get to do this,” Dean said, his warm breath tickling Castiel’s nose. “But I guess you’ve got a lot of people saying that to you.”

“No,” Castiel said. “I don’t usually do this.”

Dean was quiet for a long moment. Castiel wished he could see Dean’s face; he could dropkick a criminal in complete darkness, but he wasn’t good at reading emotions from silences. Finally, Dean said, “You don’t have to say that. You’re like a magpie, Cas. I know you’ll run after the next bright thing that comes along, but I’m fine with being your shiny new thing of the week.”

“I won’t leave if that’s what you want.”

“No way,” Dean said, turning flippant. “I won’t be the one to tie down Stull City’s most eligible bachelor.”

“Dean,” Castiel started to say.

“No chick flick moments.”

Castiel could barely suppress a moan when Dean kneaded his shoulders, squeezing them lightly. It felt nice. Castiel liked to be touched. Balthazar told him it was because he didn’t get much affection after his parents’ murders. “Don’t stop.”

“You’re like a cat.”

“Don’t stop.”

Dean let his hands wondered down, gently massaging Castiel’s biceps (a few puckered scars from stitches and knives and daggers and swords and bullets), the inside of his elbows, his forearms (a few scars), his wrists (a small bump over where a bone had healed), his hands (calluses), his fingers (a crooked pinkie), and his fingertips (calluses). Dean lingered on every scar like he wanted to collect and treasure them.

“I knew it,” Dean said with a grin. “You’re a total freak in the sack.”

“I do skiing and spelunking,” Castiel said easily. “I’m careless.”

“You got this banged up from doing sports?” Dean said. “You’ve gotta take better care of yourself, Cas.”

Castiel hummed non-committedly as Dean went back to rubbing circles into his joints, moving up from his fingertips to his palms, to his wrists, to his elbows, and to his shoulders. Castiel said, “Why do you like me?”

“You mean asides from your huge house and expensive race cars?”

“I am serious, Dean,” Castiel said.

“I don’t know, man, you’re a good-looking dude. I’d be crazy not to want to tap that,” Dean said. “And I have a feeling you’re smarter than you pretend to be.”

“I am?”

“Yeah, I don’t imagine many people can run a friggin’ business empire like you do,” Dean said.

“I inherit it.”

“But you’re running it now,” Dean said. “Besides, you care about this city more than anyone I know. You donate money and set up charities for homeless people and street kids. You’re a good guy.”

Castiel touched Dean’s hand reassuringly. “You’re a good man too.”

“Yeah, well, honest cops don’t make a lot of money,” Dean said, grinning. “I wouldn’t mind having you as my sugar daddy.”

“I’ll think about it,” Castiel said with a straight face.

Dean laughed. It was a strong happy sound. Castiel liked it.

\- - -

** 8 **

Alastair owned several penthouses in the Pit.

After days of surveillance, Keeper finally pinpointed the penthouse where Alastair kept records of his business dealings. He kept watching until he figured out the weaknesses of the security systems, the number of guards, and the location and lock combination for Alastair’s safe.

He broke into the penthouse on a night when Alastair was travelling out of the country. There were eleven men stationed in the entire apartment and eight on the rooftop. Keeper knocked out those on the rooftop, before he slipped into the apartment. He took down the four men in the study, and worked on the safe. Once it opened, he found several accounting books, check books, and piles of invoices. It was exactly what he was looking for. He stuffed the books and documents in the backpack he brought with him.

Then the door of the study opened.

“Hey, do you guys want some coff- Shit!”

Shit hit the fan.

The remaining thugs rushed into the study, leaving little room for maneuver. Keeper had a thug in a headlock when he was punched in the back of his head. Dazed, he could hardly struggle when a heavy-set thug threw him into the nearest window.

The window that had two bullet holes and a spider web of cracks in it.

It gave way instantly.

For one weightless moment, Keeper was suspended in the cool night air, before he started falling. Keeper twisted his body around so he was not hurtling downwards with his back to the ground. He spread his cape, hoping that it could act as the glider like it was designed to be.

The fall was too short for him to open his cape fully.

Keeper crashed into a big pile of bags of trash and slammed into a dumpster.

The arm that he held up to shield his head from the corner of the dumpster broke with a sharp snap. He struggled to get up. Spears of pain stabbed him in the sides and leg and forced him to lie still. He might have broken a few ribs and a leg too.

“Cas? Can… hear me? Damn… me!… Cas!” Balthazar yelled over the comm-link in his mask, before his voice was lost in the crackle of static. The equipment must have broken in the fall. When the buzz of static in Keeper’s ear started making him feel dizzier, he switched off the comm-link.

He had to move before Alastair’s goons realized they had to come and find him and retrieve what he stole. He shifted, trying to crawl on his legs, arms, stomach, anything, but he couldn’t move without nearly passing out from the pain.

He didn’t know how long he had been lying in the alley, when he heard footsteps approaching him.

“We have to get you out of here.” Dean peered at him, and wrapped an arm around his back. Keeper groaned as pain shot through his ribs. Dean froze at the sound. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” Keeper said, breathing heavily. “The multiple lacerations and bone fractures are hurting me.”

“Dammit, K. Not the time to get a sense of humor,” Dean said. He put a careful hand on Keeper’s hood. “I can’t take you to a hospital like this. You’re in full costume.”

Keeper shook Dean’s hand off him. “My car. Take me to my car. I need to get home.”

“What? No, you need help now.”

“There are medical supplies at my hideout,” Keeper said. “I have a friend with medical training.”

“You can’t drive like this.”

“My car has an autopilot system,” Keeper said. “Get me to my car.”

Dean frowned unhappily, but he said, “Your funeral, man. Where is your car?”

“Two blocks down,” Keeper said. “In the abandoned warehouse behind Danny’s.”

“Alright, let’s get going.” Dean helped Keeper up. Keeper leaned against Dean’s arm, but he winced when he put his weight on the wrong leg.

They walked on the dark street, keeping to the shadows. At this time of night, only drug-dealers and junkies dared to be out and about in this area.

Keeper was slumped against Dean’s side, while Dean held him up and did most of the walking for him. Dean was his anchor. He wished to kiss Dean and tell him how much he loved him, but that was probably not a good idea when Dean had a strictly professional relationship with the Keeper. It was hard to remember that when his mind was working so sluggishly.

There was too much blood trickling down the inside of his body armor and pooling in his boots.

“Hey. Don’t fall asleep on me. Stay with me,” Dean said.

Keeper blinked and focused on how every step jarred his wounds, on how the pain made his stomach clench. “How did you find me?’

“Headquarters got a call a few minutes ago. One of the alarms in Alastair’s penthouse was triggered. Alastair’s goons wouldn’t let us in, but anyone with a pair of binoculars can see there is a whole pane of glass missing up there,” Dean said. “I’m guessing you happened to it?”

Keeper didn’t dignify that with an answer. He handed Dean the backpack filled with records of Alastair’s dealings.

“Is this what I think it is?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe you went with Sam’s crazy idea,” Dean said with a wide smile. “Awesome.”

\- - -

** 7 **

Castiel excused himself form the party in the ballroom. He’d talked to the people that mattered and convinced them his ‘holiday’ was filled with nothing but boat rides and beautiful women; it was a job well done. That was the whole point of having this party. The truth was that he spent most of his days off in the bed in his boat while Balthazar periodically checked his bones were healing right.

He waved at the Gallagher twins, who were giggling and looked stoned to the gills, before retreating to the bathroom, one of the larger ones in his mansion. He was washing his hands in the basin when he heard the door close.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Castiel looked up in the mirror, and saw Dean leaning against the closed door with a scowl on his face. “Hello, Dean.”

“You’ve been gone a long-ass time, man,” Dean said.

“And I’m back.”

Dean glared at him. “Would’ve been nice to get a phone call. You could’ve been dead for all I knew.”

“I don’t understand why you worry so much.”

“Bad things happen to good people in this town, Cas. Or haven’t you noticed that yet?” Dean said.

“I’m not stupid, Dean, despite my reputation” Castiel said lightly. “I’ll hire bodyguards if I have to.”

“Well, that’s friggin’ great, but I can still use a phone call from you now and then, you know,” Dean said. “The only way I know you are alive is reading the tabloids, and I really hate having to read about them guessing who you’ll be screwing next.”

“I don’t know you care,” Castiel said.

“I do,” Dean said. He kissed Castiel on the mouth, with hard teeth and a stubborn tongue. Castiel met him kiss for kiss, drinking in the taste of him again after weeks of no physical release. When they pulled away, they were both breathing heavily. “I shouldn’t, but I care so much it hurts.”

“Are you jealous, Dean?”

“Maybe I am,” Dean said, slipping a finger under Castiel’s bowtie. Castiel’s breath hitched when Dean tugged and the bowtie tightened around his neck. “Maybe I want you all to myself after you’re gone for so long.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Castiel said breathlessly.

Dean grinned. “Are you doing anything for tonight?”

\- - -

** 6 **

Sam’s office was markedly different from Dean’s. Sam’s office was larger and newer, and had a nice view of the city hall. But like Dean, Sam had haphazardly discarded files and piles of document over the floor around the desk. A few suits were draped over the back of the couch, along with ties and shirts and belts and a polished pair of shoes.

The mugshots of several criminals were stuck to a whiteboard behind the door. Keeper recognized them as the people he’d personally rounded up for Sam.

“Hey, it’s good to see you again. You’ve been missing for a while,” Sam said, looking up from his desk.

“You look tired,” Keeper said.

Sam said with a frustrated sigh, “I’m just really wrapped up in this case. I can’t get it out of my head even when I’m asleep. I keep dreaming about numbers and dates and names and it’s driving me up the wall.”

“You’re dedicated,” Keeper said. “I understand.”

Sam said with a worn smile, “Yeah, I guess you do.”

“I don’t trust Ruby,” Keeper said. “She’s one of Lilith’s people.”

Sam nodded. “I know, but I swear she is on our side, okay? I trust her. She gave us important information about the workings of the organization, the meetings, the times and dates of the deals, the whole works.”

“We need her,” Keeper concluded grudgingly.

“We don’t exactly have many willing witnesses,” Sam said. “People know we already have a hard time making sure the members of the jury stay alive.”

“Just made sure you do what I cannot do,” Keeper said. “Lock Lilith and Alastair up forever.”

Sam smiled. “I will, K, don’t worry. They’ll be gone for good.”

“Good luck with the trial,” Keeper said, turning to leave through the office window. “It’s in your hands now.”

“Keeper,” Sam said. “I just want to thank you for everything that you’ve done.”

Keeper paused. “I only did what I could to help.”

“I mean it. You’ve done more for this city than anyone else,” Sam said. “I know you sacrifice a lot to be the Keeper, so thank you, really.”

There was something in Sam’s words that Keeper wasn’t getting, but Sam was looking at him with eager and sincere eyes, and gratitude wasn’t something that Keeper came across often, so he said, “You’re welcome, Sam.”

\- - -

** 5 **

“Oh God. Oh Jesus Christ,” said an old man, shoving past Castiel to get to the doors at the back of the courtroom.

Reporters were rushing to the front of the room, but they were pushed back by a thick line of bailiffs. The judge and frightened jury had already been urged out of the courtroom

Sam’s scream was still ringing in Castiel’s ears; it was louder than Ruby’s triumphant yell of “Lilith will win!”

“Someone gets me more water here!” a court clerk shouted.

A small circle of people were gathered in front of the bench. Dean was crouching on the floor, soothing Sam, whose voice had long turned hoarse. Dozens of empty water bottles were scattered around them, and a pool of diluted acid was turning the carpet bleached-pink.

A small plastic bottle innocently labelled ‘Antacid’ lay abandoned on the floor of the witness stand.

The angry noises at the doorway grew louder as medical respondents tried to get a stretcher through the crowd. Castiel looked over to the front again, before he was pushed out of the room with the rest of the people.

Dean met his eyes, for a second, before turning back to Sam.

_(“Avenge us, Cas.”)_

Castiel walked out of the courthouse with a heavy heart, and he was greeted by cameras, microphones and too many questions.

\- - -

** 4 **

Sirens and gunshots sounded sporadically in the distance.

Dean was huddled in a raincoat, standing next to the floodlight on the rooftop of the police headquarters, looking smaller than he actually was. The wind tugged at Dean’s tie and coattails.

“Alastair and Lilith were dead.”

“Hanged from Lady Justice’s scale on top of the courthouse,” Dean said coldly. “I heard. Good riddance.”

“Dean.” Keeper said warningly. “We don’t do that. We don’t kill.”

“Look at where that got us.”

“Did you know Sam blew up an ADA too?” Keeper said. “She used to work for him.”

“She was corrupt,” Dean said.

“Didn’t mean she deserved to die. It wasn’t just,” Keeper said.

“If you’re all about justice and shit, then where is the bitch I told you to find?” Dean said.

“I can’t find her,” Keeper said.

“Can’t or won’t?” Dean said. His lips were pressed into a hard line.

“Can’t,” Keeper said. “There is a power vacuum, now that Alastair and Lilith are dead. Gang wars are brewing in the Pit. The street violence is going to spin out of control if we don’t put a stop to it. People are dying.”

“You won’t even find one woman for me,” Dean said flatly.

“I have a job to do. So do you.”

“We’re done,” Dean said. His voice trembled, but he stood still as a stone. “We’re done, K.”

Keeper kept his expression neutral, ignoring how hard his heart was thudding in his chest. He walked away.

“Sam was your friend once,” Dean yelled from behind him. “Or have you forgotten that?”

Keeper stopped at the edge of the rooftop. He didn’t turn around. The silence between them stretched on like a yawning abyss. Keeper said at last, “I’ll find Ruby, and you’ll lock her up in jail, nothing more.”

Dean didn’t speak. Keeper took the silence as the acquiescence that it was. He fired his grapple gun at the closest building and jumped off the rooftop.

\- - -

** 3 **

The lights were switched on, barely illuminating the dark damp cave. There wasn’t much more he could do about the lighting without bringing the cave down on himself. The many computers that displayed feeds from surveillance cameras across the city were turned on. The comm-link was working. The gas tank of his car was filled.

It was all ready for his nightly patrol.

Castiel stared at the mask in his hand.

The only times Castiel had talked to Dean after the accident was when he was Keeper. Castiel didn’t even get a phone call from Dean. The only time he had heard from Dean was a handwritten note left in the mailbox: _Sorry about everything_ , after Sam had broken out of hospital and the rampages had started

“Cas?” Balthazar said, coming down the stairs to the cave.

“Do you know that I once thought that I could leave this behind?” Castiel said. “The hood, the cape, the mask, the costume, the mission. Everything.”

Balthazar eyed the Kevlar armor Castiel had put on already. “Then why don’t you? You know I’ll be the first in line to celebrate. I can finally get some decent sleep in this house.”

Castiel didn’t smile at Balthazar’s attempt of a joke. “I can’t, not now.”

“Is this about Sam’s accident?” Balthazar said. “You can’t blame yourself for it. Nobody could have seen it coming.”

“I could,” Castiel said bitterly. “If I could break into Alastair’s safe, I could have spotted one little bottle of acid being snuck into the courthouse.”

“You’ve done everything you could,” Balthazar said. Castiel hated seeing the pity in his eyes. “You have to stop blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong in this city, Cas.”

“I have work to do,” Casitel said, putting on his mask. “I have to find Ruby.”

\- - -

** 2 **

Keeper reached a small abandoned chapel at the edge of the Pit. The doorsteps stunk of urine and vomit. The front door was supposed to be locked tight with a chain, which lay in the open doorway like a dead snake. It had been cut with a bolt cutter.

Keeper stepped over the chain, and entered the chapel.

This was where Ruby was last seen. Dean should be here by now.

Lights from the street shone through the cracks in the boarded-up windows. The chapel was quiet. Not so much as a purr of a stray cat. There were signs that people had once squatted here: Empty tin cans littered the floor and scraps of molding cardboard were discarded on the pews.

“Dean?” Keeper called. His voice echoed dully in the large space. “Dean?”

Keeper kept walking. Pews fanned out on either side of him. Some pews had been tipped over and had fallen like rows of dominoes. As he walked deeper into the chapel, he saw someone standing in front of an altar.

“Dean? Is that you?” Keeper said, striding up the aisle.

He stopped at the edge of the spreading pool of blood on the hardwood floor.

“Hey, K,” Dean said.

“Are you hurt?” Keeper said. He couldn’t hide the worry in his voice. He looked over Dean, at his arms and head, to see if he had any wounds on him. Dean only had a cut above his eyebrow, but otherwise he looked unharmed.

“It’s not my blood,” Dean said. He nodded at the altar. “Over there.”

Behind the altar, where the priest would stand when finishing a communion, was a body.

Keeper crouched next to the body. Ruby’s body. He took in the blank eyes and gaping mouth. Her dark hair fanned out on the floor under her head. Her chest was riddled with bullets.

“It was self-defense,” Dean said from behind him.

“She was unarmed,” Keeper said. “You should have waited for me like I told you.”

“I couldn’t risk her running, not after what she’d done to Sam.”

“Is that what you’re going to say at your hearing?” Keeper said, his tone clipped.

“I did the right thing.”

“We’re not judge, jury and executioner, I’ve told you,” Keeper growled. “I didn’t find Ruby for you to gun her down. I tracked her down for justice to be served.”

“You don’t believe me,” Dean said. “You think I killed her because I got a rush out of it.”

“I don’t know what to believe,” Keeper said.

Dean said blankly, “For what it’s worth, I didn’t feel anything when I shot her. I wasn’t any happier after I did it.”

Keeper could taste the heavy metallic scent in the air; he could see the spreading pool of red on dark floor; he could feel the liquid sticking wetly to his skin. Only he wasn’t sure whether it was his parents’ blood or Ruby’s blood.

He couldn’t bear to look at the body, at the way that it was lying so gracefully on the ground.

_(“Avenge us, Cas.”)_

There was a reason why Keeper didn’t use guns.

A siren wailed from outside the chapel.

“I called headquarters, K,” Dean said, looking pale and withdrawn. “You should go before they get here.”

Keeper slipped out the back door.

\- - -

** 1 **

“Stop,” Castiel said sharply, unbuckling his seatbelt before the Bentley rolled to a stop outside a small dirty bar by the road. Night had fallen, and all law-fearing citizens had retreated to their homes, while police cars sped across the city. The only people in sight were a homeless man sleeping in a cocoon of thin blankets on a bench and a twitchy teenager staring at them from the Gas-n-Sip across the street.

“Are you sure?” Balthazar watched Castiel in the rear-view mirror from the driver seat. “This is a dangerous neighborhood.”

“I’m the Keeper,” Castiel said. “You can leave if you’re worried.”

“I won’t leave, Cas.” Balthazar sighed. “Just be careful.”

“I can take care of myself.” Castiel got out of the car and made his way to the bar. He found Dean easily; it wasn’t like the man was trying to hide from him. Dean was sitting against the wall outside of the bar, eyes closed and breathing slowly. His hair was greasy and sweaty, but he didn’t have any external wounds. Castiel knelt in front of him. “Dean.”

“Cas.” Dean opened his eyes blearily. His eyes were bloodshot and his breath smelled like cheap beer “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that. What are you doing here on the street, Dean? There’s a curfew.”

“Sam’s still out there. I’ve gotta find him,” Dean said.

Castiel tried to pull Dean to his feet, but Dean planted himself firmly on the ground. “You’ll get sick if you stay out in this weather. Let me help you.”

“Then help me find Sammy, please, Cas.”

“The police are looking for him.”

“They have orders to shoot him on sight. You’ve got money. You know people,” Dean said, yanking at Castiel’s arms. Dean never pleaded. It broke Castiel’s heart to see Dean like this. “I’ll give you anything, man. Just find him. I’m running out of people to ask favors from. Sam is the only thing I’ve got left.”

The city was burning down around them, and yet Dean asked him to forsake it for one person. There was always something more important. The consequences of the last time Dean asked something like that of him hadn’t left his mind. Castiel hesitated when he said, “I can’t promise you anything.”

“I can’t lose him,” Dean said. “He may be killing people, but he’s still my brother. I can’t lose Sam.”

“Dean, you won’t lose him,” Castiel said.

“I’ve already lost him when that bitch hurt him. That was why I killed her.”

“I know,” Castiel said lowly.

“I’m a friggin’ loser.” Dean laughed shortly. “I lost my job. I lost Sam, and now I’m losing you.”

“Dean…”

“I will. I’m gonna lose you,” Dean said. Castiel caught a hint of tears in Dean’s eyes, before Dean leaned forwards to kiss him. He held Dean as Dean kissed him on his forehead, like a benediction, on his eyelids, the tip of his nose, his cheeks, and his mouth, where Dean kissed long and slow, as if trying to memorize his taste. Dean finished with pressing a peck on his lips, and mumbled, “I’m not shiny anymore, Cas.”

“No, you’re not,” Castiel agreed quietly. It sounded final. “I’m sorry.”

Dean let out a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry too.”

\- - -

** 0 **

Raindrops as fat as bullets pelted down on Keeper. His dark hood was blown off by the wind and rested against the back of his cape. His hair was matted wetly to his head. The only reason he could still see through the curtain of rain was because of the lenses built into his mask.

Keeper was lying on his stomach at the edge of the rooftop of the Stull City Police Headquarters. The raised ledge pressed against his chest through his Kevlar armor. He was starting to find it hard to breathe, when he was the only thing holding onto Sam’s heavy body above a fifteen-story drop.

“Give me your other hand, Sam. Drop the gun.”

“You can’t hold on forever,” Sam said too calmly for a man dangling from the side of a rooftop. “Let me go.”

Keeper tightened his grasp on Sam’s arm but Sam didn’t grip back. The angry red blotches left on Sam’s face stood in stark contrast against his undamaged skin, even though it’d been days since the flask of concentrated acid was splashed on it. The scars ran from Sam’s hairline and disappeared under his soaked flannel shirt.

Keeper had only seen Sam in suits before. “I’ll get you help.”

“Why? You want to patch me up and lock me up in Stull Sanatorium?” Sam said. He laughed hollowly. “It’s really not my type of place.”

“The doctors there will help you.”

“Don’t you get it? I can’t stop killing once I start. I need to die.”

“We can talk about this later,” Keeper said, straining his arms to pull Sam up. This wasn’t going well. “I need you to give me your other hand, Sam.”

“I’ve killed off corrupt judges and prosecutors,” Sam said. “I’m the only rotten thing left of the old DA office. After I die, you can take care of what’s left of the street gangs, and Stull City will get its new start, like I promised, remember?”

“No, Sam,” Keeper said. When he looked at Sam’s ruined face, he didn’t see a murderer, a killer. He saw his friend, his broken friend, and what he himself could have become if his fate had taken a different turn. “Stop this. The price is too high.”

“Everything comes with a price,” Sam said. “We all have to make sacrifices, right, Cas?”

Keeper felt his mouth dry, like someone had stuffed it full of cotton. The world spun momentarily around him, turning the cars below him into streaks of light. His voice was scratchy when he said, “How do you know it’s me?”

“I’ve always suspected. I mean, there are the high-tech gadgets you used, your years away from Stull City, and the deaths of your parents,” Sam said. “Your long vacation after Keeper’s accident confirmed it for me.”

“Does Dean know?” Keeper said, his voice barely a whisper in the rain.

“Dean thinks the sun shines out of your ass, Cas. He wouldn’t have believed me even if I told him,” Sam said. “Promise you’ll tell him someday, okay?”

It sounded ominously like he was saying his last words.

“Sam, don’t do this.”

“Don’t blame yourself too much,” Sam said.

For a heart-stopping second, Sam’s arm slipped through Keeper’s grip by an extra inch. The muscles in Keeper’s body were groaning in protest. His gloves were too slippery with water. Keeper snapped, “Sam, give me your other hand!”

The door to the rooftop slammed open. Keeper turned his head sharply.

They were sitting ducks for any cop that came to shoot them both off of the rooftop. Neither of them was popular with the police.

“Sam!” Dean was running towards them, splashing through the puddles. Keeper had to wonder how Dean got up here, considering that he was decommissioned from the police force. The clue might be the large bruise developing on Dean’s cheek. Dean widened his eyes like a deer caught in headlights. He looked scared, and Keeper didn’t know why. “Don’t!”

Keeper stiffened as the tip of a barrel pressed again his jaw. Distracted, he hadn’t noticed Sam raising the gun. “Sam.”

“Sorry, K,” Sam said, and fired.

The bullet burnt hot, grazing Keeper on his right cheek. He flinched as the bullet flew by his ear, and his hold loosened.

Sam slipped out of his grip and plummeted down to the streets.

“No!” Dean yelled. He ran to the edge of the rooftop. Keeper wrapped his arms around Dean and tackled him to the floor. Dean struggled and fought under the weight of his body. The heavy stink of alcohol clung to Dean’s clothes. “Let me fucking go!”

Keeper took every hit and kick. The gash on his cheek stung.

It was no one person’s fault.

They all had had a hand in this happening.

_(“Avenge us, Cas.”)_

\- - -

** Epilogue **

Keeper landed several feet away, and did a backflip to avoid the whip darting at him across the rooftop. He hissed as the whip struck him across his cheek and stung his healing wound.

The thief yanked back the lash of her whip and smirked at him. Her lips were painted bright red. Her costume was a sleek black catsuit and a domino mask with two small devil horns on it. She was holding a small sack, filled with cash and the merchant’s wife’s jewelry.

“Give yourself up. You have nowhere to go.”

“Sorry, I don’t put out on the first date, handsome. Maybe next time.”

Keeper frowned. He had heard that drawling voice before, back when Alastair’s and Lilith’s gang was still the biggest criminal organization in Stull City. “Meg Masters?”

Her smile dropped, before it came back wider than before. “Have you been watching me, Keeper? Watching me put on this catsuit before I came here? Oh, you’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you?”

“I have a good ear,” Keeper said. “I thought you were with Crowley.”

“Have my own gig now.”

“He will kill you if he finds you,” Keeper said.

Meg scoffed. “Please. I worked for the old gangs. Crowley is nothing; he is yesterday’s news.”

“Then why the mask?” Keeper said.

“Don’t you know? Masks are the new black. After folks like Leviathan, the Mother, and the Alphas showed up, this town just got more interesting, thanks to you,” Meg purred.

“It has nothing to do with me.”

“Who wore a mask first, Keeper?” Meg taunted. “You did. We’re just jumping on the bandwagon.”

Keeper glared at her.

“It didn’t hurt that the Devil killed off the old bosses. It freed up more spaces for the rest of us.”

“Don’t call him that,” Keeper said sharply.

“Right, I forgot you guys used to be friends.” Meg smirked. “I’ll tell _Sam_ you say hi, the next time I see him.” She leaped off the rooftop and swung onto another building, dark hair flowing out behind her. She laughed; the sound was like that of handbells ringing at a funeral. “See you around, good-looking.”

Keeper stared after her, processing the new piece of information about Sam’s (not the Devil, never the Devil) whereabouts. He would find his broken friend, even if he had to tear apart the city to do it. He owed Dean that much.

There was a new wave of criminals appearing in Stull City. Newspapers were calling it ‘the Long Masquerade’.

And Keeper alone had to see it through to the end.


End file.
